


Medicine

by eli-wray (blessedharlot)



Series: Unmade, Made New [2]
Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Emotional Aftermath of Warzone Mission (no battle details), Great Library Transtopia, M/M, Medical Gender Transition, Oral Sex, PIV Sex, Trans Character, Trans Man Niccolo Santi, Trans Sex, Vaginal Fingering, needle mention, therapeutic sex, trans author, trans!Santi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23794408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessedharlot/pseuds/eli-wray
Summary: Three years in to their relationship, Nic and Chris again take advantage of Nic's uncle's chalet for some needed rest and recuperation. And sex.This serves to fill the April 23rd prompt for the April event, as well as being part two of this Nic/Chris series. It's also a part of my Great Library Transtopia of stories, which includes trans Glain and Nic, with trans Thomas on the way (check out the tag).
Relationships: Niccolo Santi/Christopher Wolfe
Series: Unmade, Made New [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638754
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3
Collections: Dribble Drabble April (A Great Library Event)





	Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> In our current terminology, Nic would be a binary trans man whose transition includes top surgery several years back and continuing regular hormone therapy. This is discussed more directly in “Self-Made Man,” the first fic in this series. Here, Nic and Chris are an established couple, and such things come up more in the form of Nic’s current body and chosen sexual activity rather than specifics about his past transition.

Nic had known from the start that getting away to the chalet with any regularity would take effort. Neither he nor Chris were of a type to prioritize leisure time, and now three years had passed since their first visit without them embarking on a second one. 

Chris had given token resistance to the plan for this visit from the start, but Nic knew the facade would drop once they arrived. Nic recognized the behavior as Chris’ ambivalent obstinacy, rather than his true veto. They both knew there was something about his uncle’s place - the tranquility, the distance from their work and superiors, the personal history - that lent a sense of the space being necessary to their wellbeing. Being here gave them access to a part of themselves that needed regular tending.

And now, more than ever, they needed to find ways to tend to one another, to renew themselves after such a difficult mission.

The gazebo on the chalet grounds was built to showcase the mountain peaks visible to the east. While they couldn’t see the nearby bend of the river from the gazebo, the soft rushing sound lent a welcome sense of calm as they took in a breathtaking view of blue Alpine crags and peaks illuminated by a low, slanted sun. Nic pulled his gaze from the ice-capped mountains to press his lips to Chris’ temple. Wind-cooled skin generated warmth with the touch between them. Chris wrapped his arm around Nic’s waist, and Nic examined the tension still in his beloved’s jawline… somewhere between its usual dynamic, combative tension and his recent, rock-solid tightness. Nic’s own core felt tightly wound, more alert to potential threat than was necessary. But this place would slowly relax them. The rhododendrons and alpenrose splashed color all around their covered spot, while the white walls of the chalet gleamed next to them in the sun. Chris took in a slow breath and Nic felt his own slowing pulse mirrored in his lover’s unhurried bearing. Nic carded a leisurely hand through Chris’ black hair, occasionally lingering on his scalp and luring his eyes to close. Chris inhaled, slowly, and lifted his ribcage, stretching his spine and nuzzling his head into Nic's throat.

“Mountain air,” Nic mused. “Why does it smell so good?”

“The nitrogen from decomposing pine needles,” Chris said. “Dissolved copper from the shallower lakes.”

“Of course.”

“Lichen and moss wetted with melting snow. Aromatics thrive on the lee side of mountains. Wild garlic, onion. Opuntia fruits, half eaten by local fauna.”

“How romantic.” Nic smiled into Chris’ neck.

“Then, of course, your wild goats will add to the aroma as well,” Chris continued.

“Ah yes, that’s what’s relaxing me,” Nic replied, pulling away to lean on the gazebo railing. “The delectable musk of wild, unwashed goat.” Nic smelled nothing rank at all in the glittering sundown to come, but he savored Chris’ dry humor having nothing else to chew on but imagined inconveniences.

“Very clever of Italy not to wash their Alpine goats,” Chris nodded, looking slim and dashing with his hands in his trouser pockets, his hair loose.

“Well, we know better,” Nic answered. “Not like those fools in Switzerland.”

“It’s why the Italian Alps have a better bouquet.”

“Indeed,” Nic smiled. “Is it the goat smell that’s cleared out my head, do you think? Has it washed away the distractions?”

“No, that’s the extra nitrogen.” Chris watched Nic over his shoulder. “Diminishing your blood oxygen levels.”

Nic grinned. “Medicinal asphyxiation?” he asked.

“Cuts through the distractions,” Chris continued with a small smirk. “Shaves away unneeded thoughts.”

“Pares us down to the essentials, then,” Nic smiled, wrapping his arms around Chris again.

“Speaking of essentials,” Chris said, “and truly medicinal treatments, is your injection schedule still in disruption from the mission?”

“Only a little. Today’s shot will catch me up.”

“Well, go administer that.” Chris put a palm to Nic’s chest. “There’s something I want to accomplish and you’re distracting me.”

Nic quirked his eyebrows.

“Do you have another lover hiding in the bushes?” Nic asked.

“As if a second lover could be half as good as you.” Chris said, giving Nic a chaste kiss. “Or tolerate me half as well.”

A few minutes later, Nic came back downstairs, a soft sting lingering in one thigh. Music now wafted through the chalet, and Nic smiled broadly. Chris had found the harpsichord. 

New delight quickening his pace, Nic turned the corner to the sitting room to find a glorious sight. Breezes from an open window softly fluttered the white linen curtains, a crisp floral scent wafting in from the garden, and at the bench of the gilded instrument sat Christopher… hair swaying emphatically, shoulders holding a cool grace, wrists lifted in that caressing way musicians have about them. Christopher played a minuet, his eyes closed. Nic stood in the doorway admiring his form, his grace, the life that pulsed from him as he did something he clearly enjoyed.

On impulse, he pulled his gaze away from Chris to examine the harpsichord itself, and noticed the instrument was open under its casing, with no low support trestle closing off the space. Nic walked closer, his soft boot strikes on the hardwood floor sounding like a brief counterpoint to the music. When he could, he slid himself underneath the instrument. His back flat on the vibrating floor, the instrument above him, Nic was surrounded by the song flowing from Chris’ fingers. It was a full-body experience.

There was only a fraction of a second added to the space between two notes, and then Chris carried on with his minuet. Nic felt himself soar on a current drawn by Chris, wrapped in the part of Chris that he poured into the instrument. Nic knew by now how Chris felt about playing music, past all his judgments and intellectual positions. He loved the way playing made him feel more alive, more present. Less in his head. Nic let the music move him out of his own head and into the vibrations moving through him, soaring on the passion from Chris and the gift of the composer.

As Chris finished with a flourish, Nic took deep breaths, unmoving, savoring the receptivity the music had inspired in him. When he turned his head, Chris’ legs had already shifted, and he’d leaned under the casing to peer at Nic.

“Have your mental faculties gone missing?” Chris asked. “I don’t think you left them down there.”

“I have always wanted to do this while you played,” Nic grinned.

“Why?”

“I hear the music better under here.”

“Ah,” Chris said mildly, as he raised his voice. “So it’s your hearing that’s defective.”

Nic chuckled. ‘You hush and let me enjoy your genius.”

Chris sighed and sat straight again. “Referring to my playing as ‘genius’ is not a way to establish that your sense of hearing is functioning properly,” he said from the keyboard.

A new song began lilting through the room, and Nic lay back and savored how Chris gentled the plucked melody into Nic’s very bones. A soft, sad kindness called out from the instructions the composer left - a love letter to Chris and Nic, and anyone else with ears to hear - and Nic let the message sink into him and change him. 

Before Nic knew it, his hand had reached for Chris’ nearest ankle and wrapped around it. Once Nic had noticed Chris’ position and proximity, though, the naughty thought wouldn’t leave his head.

He slid closer, and inched his palm up to Chris’ calf. The music got ever so subtly softer, Chris’ swaying less pronounced. The calf muscle under Nic’s hand stayed pliant and vibrant.

Nic shifted his reach again, and smoothed his palm around to the inside of Chris’ knee, fingers stretching just a bit up Chris’ thigh. Now the pace slowed a fraction.

Nic couldn’t fit his head into the cramped space between Chris and the keyboard of the instrument. His hand would have to do. So he let it glide up Chris’ thigh, and marveled at the music remaining fairly steady. He palmed Chris’ bulge, caressing his balls with the heel of his hand while his fingers brushed his shaft. 

A phrase of the song completed - the song hanging suspended in silence for a beat, and then another - and then the music resumed. Nic massaged Chris tenderly, enjoying the feel of Chris’ cock swelling and hardening under his hand. 

The music soon had another small sweep, and a flourish, and then it was over… or at least, Chris was clearly done playing. Nic didn’t know enough to tell the difference.

Nic broke contact to climb out, though as his hand pulled away Chris caught his wrist and kept him close. He lithely slipped out a gap between bench and instrument leg, and came up to his knees next to Chris. Nic wrapped his hands around Chris’ head and caught his lips in a deep, dizzying kiss, feeling the contact melt each of them more. 

When they pulled away, Chris caught Nic’s bottom lip for one sharp instant between his teeth, with a grin. Then he rubbed his smoother cheek against Nic’s late day stubble like a cat leaving his scent.

Nic sighed. “Your playing delights me.”

“I’ve always said your tastes in art are coarse and undiscerning,” Chris murmured silkily. “Especially atrocious for an Italian, I might add.”

Nic quirked one eyebrow. “I know at least one art of yours you won’t deny. One expressive aptitude you know full well you have great expertise for.”

“Mm,” Chris smiled. “What’s that?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Yes, but I wish to hear it from your lips.”

“You suck my cock like a great master, and I ache to experience your work.”

“Then take me upstairs.”

“My cock’s right here.”

“Am I a street busker to perform anywhere?” Chris retorted with his lustiest glare, wrapping his legs around Nic’s waist. “Is there not a time and a place for everything? If the Sistine Pendentives were painted on sewage grates, would they be just as good? Take me to the bedroom, you impertinent fool.”

Nic took Chris with him as he stood, and pointed them both toward their favorite bedroom.

“Maestro,” Nic said, “if you insist.”

Chris and Nic were frequently slow to undress each other, savoring the long teasing draw of disrobing. That was not the case tonight. This time, they simply knew they shouldn’t have clothes on any more - they should be bare to each other - and they rectified that problem immediately upon entering the bedroom, clothes falling effortlessly to the floor. Chris’ lissome frame gave Nic a full-body jolt of pleasure every time he saw it, every time he felt it - his sleek olive skin a cool delight against his own warm, tawny cords of muscle. As they drifted toward the bed, their mouths and tongues met again. Nic’s thigh found its place between Chris’ legs. Chris’ full erection pressed perfectly against Nic’s hip. Nic’s cock grew hard under Chris’ soft hand. 

Chris broke the kiss first, his hands shifting into a firm force on Nic’s chest, pressing him toward the bed.

“Lay down,” Chris said. His tone was that peculiar, very Christopher kind of arousal -- an edge of frost on a raw hunger for wet, warm knowledge. 

They both shifted onto the large bed -- Nic on his back, and Chris straddling him. Nic felt Chris’ gaze journey down his skin like a touch all its own, pulling up a flush on Nic’s neck and chest and swelling his cock. Chris sat there a moment, gazing quietly at Nic, hair hanging lusciously. Nic let himself savor the sight, as Chris clearly did the same. 

Together in total privacy, nude, skin pressed to skin. Nic didn’t want to take that for granted for a second. 

Chris laid a hand on each of Nic’s shoulders. He leaned down, bringing his lips closer to Nic’s, then closer. Just as they were about to kiss, Chris turned his head and watched his own thumb trace Nic’s collarbone. Then Chris let his hands roam. 

Nic felt them both savor the same hunger… for sex, yes, but also for more. A hunger for the skin-to-skin contact delayed by their mission. A hunger for closeness deferred while they had fought through hell for the Library. A hunger to be known again, to visit that wealth of knowledge of each other they’d grown over their few years together. The knowledge Nic found again simply touching Chris. The knowledge he gave back in that same touch.

Chris caressed Nic’s tender flank with fingertips, and pulled his nipple into his mouth. As Chris licked and nibbled, Nic felt something in his back release -- a sharpness between his shoulder blades that he hadn’t even noticed until it melted away. His heart found more space to be, as Chris worked his way down, sucking and caressing the sensitive points of Nic that he knew so well. 

Some part of Nic wanted to give even more. He wanted to close his eyes, to let go, to trust Chris and sink into his care… but something wouldn’t unclench. His eyes stayed open and hungry, untrusting that their moment wouldn’t evaporate. He could tell Chris knew, from the sideways glance and the upturned brow. But Chris kept kissing, kept caressing. Nic let the warmth of that travel through the rest of his body. He let himself feel it in his groin, where heat was gathering.

Chris moved down, slowly, stopping again to grab Nic’s hip and nibble at his navel, until he followed the trail of hair down further and reached a good position for sucking Nic’s cock.

Then he stopped, rubbing Nic’s hip bones under his thumbs and staring hungrily… first at Nic’s cock, and then at Nic.

They’d been lovers long enough for Chris to know every inch of Nic. With Nic’s cock erect and lifted out of its hood, Chris dipped his mouth just behind it and pulled the flat of his tongue up the sensitive underside. That teasing, tingly sensation - and the visual of Chris eyeing him darkly from behind his own cock - sent shooting thrills up Nic’s spine. He watched past his own heaving chest while Chris licked and nibbled too softly at the folds around his shaft. Nic felt the gusts of Chris’ sighs as much as his tongue and lips.

“You’re… not… sucking my cock,” Nic panted.

Chris pulled his mouth away. “You’re very observant,” he said dryly, running the most agonizingly delicate fingertips across the top edge of Nic’s cock.

Nic’s long sigh turned into an aching moan, as he threw his head back, giving in to the arch his back wanted to make.

“Chris,” Nic pleaded. His cock ached for contact.

“I’m deliberating how long to deny myself what I want,” Chris said with a sly grin. He gave a darting lick across the outer skin of Nic’s front hole - quick and arousing and unsatisfying. “Self-denial is a Christian virtue, is it not?”

Nic chuckled. “I’d ask you why you’re denying yourself, not being a Christian, but you’d only find some philosopher - the more obscure the better - to support your choice when there’s a far greater good you could be doing with your mouth right now than speaking.”

“That’s a very roundabout way to tell me to be silent,” Chris said, his brow furrowed in anger Nic knew to be false.

“Are you angry that I’m suggesting you should stop talking, or that I’m being indirect?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to be silent,” Nic whined. “Speak with my cock in your mouth and satisfy us both.”

“Hm,” Chris mused, stroking his chin. “Your point is not without merit.”

“But my point is currently without a mouth on it.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Well, now I should kick you out of bed and refuse you all rewards for that unimaginative pun.”

“And yet you’re a generous and forgiving lover.” Nic chuckled ruefully. “Who wants to suck my cock. Please.”

Chris hummed, then licked his lips, dark hunger overcoming his expression at last. “The second half of that statement is true to its core.” 

Chris wrapped his mouth against Nic’s entire cock, and Nic let go a long moan. Nic savored his tongue massaging the whole underside in long, slow strokes. Soon Chris had a suction that pulled on every layer of delicate skin that surrounded Nic’s shaft, drawing from that deep well of heat pooling in his pelvis and sending it rocketing all through him.

Nic loved how long Chris took to do this, how much he savored having Nic in his mouth, how much time he’d spent learning every fold, every crevice, every feature of Nic’s cock. Nic sank into Chris’ hold on him, feeling stiffness leave his chest and arms as Chris sent a tender heat through him. Nic reached for the silken hair that fell against each of his thighs and gathered it into his hands as he cradled Chris’ bobbing head.

Nic felt his climax build quietly... a certain buzzing suppleness starting at his cock and expanding through his chest, arching his head back until a thick, steady thrill rolled from Chris’ tongue to Nic’s head and toes. Nic stuttered out a long groan, until he was limp against the mattress.

Chris quietly climbed up beside him and lay down, and the two of them tangled together. Nic found his hand in Chris’ hair and combed his fingers through it, closing his eyes. 

Somehow, though, he still felt a lingering brittleness in Chris’ musculature. Perhaps it was the weight of recent memories, sitting palpable on the bed. 

After a few minutes of silence, Chris stroked Nic’s cheek meaningfully. Then Chris sighed.

“Is this the time to remind you of the task you wanted to complete post-coitus?” Chris asked.

Nic cracked an eye open, skeptical. “I thought you didn’t want to do it.”

“I don’t,” Chris said. “But you seemed quite determined. And if we complete it now, I won’t anticipate it arising later during our visit.”

Nic curled himself closer toward Chris, and lay a hand on his warm thigh. 

“We don’t have to do any particular task, Chris,” Nic said. “I’m not committed to the exercises the priest gave me.”

“There’s something about the subject that’s important to you,” Chris argued softly. “What is it that you’re looking for, if not the structure of those assignments?”

Nic drew a breath and released it, willing it to bring him understanding. His head shook with his grasping. “Something - simply anything - that keeps us from poisoning ourselves as we continue this work. No more lingering poison than is strictly necessary, at any rate.”

Nic reached for Chris’ hand, and held it between his own, stroking it.

Nic reached again for words. “I want tasks to complete that set us on a path to become… the officers and Scholars I admire, the ones still fighting for something. Not the others.”

“That difference is down to their chosen actions, don’t you think?” Chris asked.

“Yes. But the sapling can aim for the sun all it wants; its growth can still be thwarted by other forces.”

Chris put his other hand in Nic’s hair, fingertips stroking Nic’s scalp.

“There is a certain weight, isn’t there, to this last mission being our first extended work inside a warzone,” Chris said. “It’s a near certainty we’ll be called to similar circumstances again. I think you wish to set some precedent for us.”

“Yes, exactly. Some… examination. Some truthfulness.”

“And the purpose of this examination happening in our sex bed?”

Nic turned his head toward Chris and caught the sweet, earthy scent of sweat and sex wafting between them.

“So we don’t hide,” Nic said. “So we’re honest.”

“We know what we did,” Chris said. “I don’t see where mere recitation of the facts improves upon anything.”

“Sometimes it might,” Nic offered. “Speaking it is different from living it. But yes, we were both right there for all of this one. Perhaps we know what weighs the most on each of us right now. Our task now may be… giving attention to anything still… still metaphorically injured, or broken. And setting it to heal properly.”

“Even if we’re certain that vile, cruel people will require it all to break again?”

“All the more important to heal the breaks well in the meantime.”

“I put little faith in words to heal anything we injured,” Chris said. “And it’s your priest who would be better suited toward helping you with your own confession and repentance, if that’s what you mean.”

“Confession has never fit me very well,” Nic frowned. “As you say, words don’t mend some things. Moral injury will not be so simple for you and I, I suspect.”

“What, then, to heal a moral injury?”

“We certainly need action, yes. Private, between us, I think.”

“And so the question remains, my love, what action?”

“Chris.” Nic rubbed his brow. “Is there any part of you that feels like it’s still in that town? Anything you want back? Anything you’re keeping hidden, that you don’t want to keep hidden from me?”

Chris pulled away, only a little, to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling for some time. He chewed his bottom lip, the way he used to while reading and rarely did anymore, gaze distant for some time before he finally spoke. 

“I couldn’t help you,” he nearly whispered. “The books were more important than either of us, of course.” Chris rubbed his hand absentmindedly against his chest, then turned to look at Nic. “But you are my entire heart. And you were right there. And I was impotent to protect you.”

Nic held his gaze, came close, and pressed their lips together. The kiss started warm, and slowly deepened, Nic willing every reassurance he wished to give Chris into a lingering, grounding kiss. As Nic pulled away, they fell into each other’s gaze again.

“I’m right here,” Nic said. “And you’re the reason for that. You help me to live, always.”

“What about you?” Chris asked. “I don’t think you’ve found what you seek yet.”

Nic grinned tightly. Perhaps he was asking too much from the day. 

“I’m a soldier,” Nic demurred.

Chris let loose a belly laugh, arms loose around Nic’s neck. 

“You directed us into this activity,” Chris said, “you are forbidden to get evasive now.”

Nic licked his lips, now gone dry, as he looked for something inside himself.

“I don’t know what to do about it,” Nic said. “But I want to be certain…” His words trailed off.

“Yes?” Chris finally prompted.

“I don’t want to forget how to take off the armor, Chris. Much as I need it, I don’t ever want that. Not with you.” 

Nic saw his own furrowed brow mirrored on Chris’ face. Chris held his gaze firmly, and nodded. Then Chris pressed in closer, wrapping a hand more tightly around Nic’s head and touching his nose to Nic’s cheek. Then Chris shoved until they’d rolled across the bed, and Chris was on top of him again.

“We have set a pressing agenda, then,” Chris said. “Are there any other words you need to speak before we proceed?”

“Does the agenda involve pressing?” Nic asked.

“Yes, it does.”

“Then no, I’m done with my previous point. What shall we do with your point?”

“Your wordplay, which sustains itself at a constant baseline of inadequacy, is degrading into painfully sloppy,” Chris said. “You really must stop now. Try again later with more blood flow to your head.”

“My erection takes far less blood flow than yours,” Nic laughed. “I don’t really have an excuse right now.”

“So your meaning is that you’re simply always this thick?”

Nic bucked his hips under Chris and smiled. ‘My working thicknesses are downstairs with our luggage.”

“They can stay there for now,” Chris said. “My proposed agenda centers around me continuing my front-to-back full attention to you.”

Chris meant him using both holes behind the cock he’d just sucked, one after the other. It was the longer way to make Nic come, an unspooling orgasm that usually left him senseless. Warmth bloomed in Nic’s chest, and he grinned. “That is agreeable to the extreme.”

“Then it becomes very important - and I cannot stress this enough - you must, must cease your terrible wordplay.”

Nic laughed loud and long.

“You know I don’t care for having my work interrupted,” Chris continued. “And your puns are the antithesis of anything that will support a continued erection on my part.”

Nic kept chuckling as Chris stretched his whole body against Nic’s, entwining their fingers as he softly pinned Nic’s hands above his head and pressed him into the mattress. When Chris brought his face close, Nic closed his eyes and let himself focus on the cool touch that bloomed at his lips and sent a sweet, clean crispness through him.

“Do you know, Niccolo, that you never have need to hide anything from me?”

They shared another kiss, this one deeper. Chris’ tongue - always elegant and erudite, always scalpel-like - could open Nic to his core. It could open him and pull out what wasn’t Nic, what didn’t suit Chris, and leave the better parts. That tongue, so skilled at finding Nic’s vulnerable points and making him quiver over them.

“Do you know, Niccolo, how little capacity you have to hide anything from me?”

Nic sighed, and grinned.

Nic felt a delicate mouth press into his collarbone. Then his breastbone, hanging hair tickling Nic’s torso on the way. Against Nic’s nipple, Chris’ delicate cool mouth turned to heat yet again, and he sucked and bit the already roughened skin until Nic’s breaths had a sharp edge. 

“Do you know, Niccolo, how much I know? How much you ache over and over again to give me more knowledge of you?”

Another nip at his hip bone, and Nic’s legs were spread before he realized it.

“May I take your cock into my mouth again?” Chris asked.

“Please do,” Nic breathed. “Knowing full well I’m already sensitive, yes?”

Nic could hear Chris’ smirk in his voice. “Of course, my beloved. I’ll take the utmost care.”

Nic felt one flat, firm swipe of Chris’ tongue against the tip of Nic’s cock, bordering on too much sensation. As Nic shivered all over and groaned, Chris immediately put his whole mouth around Nic’s cock and sucked, sending Nic on an intense wave of renewed, raw pleasure.

“Your mouth,” Nic said, opening his eyes, “may be the most talented thing I think I’ve ever encountered.”

With a last, rough lick, Chris arose and quickly came to kiss Nic on the mouth, his lips hot with arousal.

Chris pulled away and whispered, “I try to balance the volume of pleasure and abuse it provides you.”

“Anubis with his scales.”

“Oh yes, good,” Chris said. He grinned and leaned back, his cock looking as rigid as an iron bar as he gave it a few quick strokes. “Compare my face to a jackal, you know what gets me hard.”

Chris motioned to Nic to adjust his hips, so Nic rocked back to grab a pillow.

“You’re deliciously insufferable, my beloved,” Nic said with a big smile, shifting the pillow under his hips and spreading his legs further.

“Let’s test that theory.” Suddenly, Chris had shoved two rough fingers into Nic’s front hole. Nic let loose a shocked, aching groan, savoring the sensation of Chris’ fingers buried in that particular slick warmth.

“Is that sufferable?” Chris asked. 

Nic fought to speak, with pleasure pulling him under. “You know you don’t have to prepare that hole,” Nic gasped. “Not this far into play.”

“So it would seem,” Chris said. “You are an abundant puddle of pre-come at the moment.”

Chris shifted, his thick cock swaying with heft and glistening at the tip, and slid more fingers deep into Nic’s front hole with one swift movement.

Nic moaned, clutching clumsily for Chris and only brushing his thigh. 

“You’re making such a mess, my love,” Chris purred, thrusting fast.

They didn’t use that hole quite enough to fit Chris’ whole fist inside; it was at most an occasional warm-up that ramped up the subsequent sensations of Chris fucking his ass. So when Chris added his thumb, his knuckles could only press against the opening in a way that melted Nic further and made him whimper.

Chris looked up and down Nic’s body with eyes now dark and hooded, pinning Nic to the bed with his gaze. Chris then let go of his own cock and pulled his hand out of Nic.

Nic whimpered at the loss, desperate to feel Chris filling him, desperate for Chris to take whatever he needed to feel secure and settled again. Whatever would make Nic right again. Nic knew he’d be better for this desire to give to Chris freely.

Nic reached for Chris, undecided whether he’d throw him to the bed and climb on top, or merely steal a kiss. But Chris refused to come into his arms, leaning back on his haunches with a shiver-inducing grin, until Nic had to bend himself forward to press his lips to Chris’ mouth.

Chris allowed a quick, chaste kiss, then pressed Nic back down onto his back.

Then he lined his cock up with Nic’s front hole, pressed halfway in, and put two placid hands around one of Nic’s thighs as he shallowly thrust.

Need rolled through Nic and only pooled deeper in him. It tugged at the space between his ribs as the cool air circulated between their bodies, as Chis thrust nonchalantly. It all refused to meet Nic’s groping drive, his grasping heat with anything but Chris’ appraising stare. With nowhere to rush or thrust, Nic could only be seen. He lost track of time, watching Chris watch him, feeling himself begin to unfurl in front of Chris’ eyes. 

Finally - had Nic earned it? With stillness or slowness or nakedness or something else? - finally Chris leaned forward, still thrusting shallowly, and put two fingertips to Nic’s lips. 

Nic extended his tongue and found his own taste on Chris’ skin, just as Chris began dipping deeper into him. Leaving his arms slack at his side and closing his eyes, Nic let himself be still, feeling Chris deep inside him, Chris’ balls rubbing the folds between Nic’s legs. The wet fingers pulled out of Nic’s mouth and brushed his nipple, and he let the jolt spin him off into an unmoored state. His body remembered the vibration of the harpsichord, and felt the ways Chris shuddered the mattress underneath them. Every memory of Chris’ voice and touch reverberated between them, as Chris thrust faster, his breath growing ragged. 

The desire to have Chris deeper, to have his energy traveling all the way up Nic’s spine grew and grew. Nic let it. He let the hunger grow under Chris’ touch and waited, bathed in Chris’ force and motion around and through him.

“You are sublime,” Chris said with awe. “Pulchritudinous. Magnificence is your natural state.” Nic was long past any capacity to reply. As soon as Nic’s moaning hit the pitch Chris had obviously been waiting for, he pulled out again. Nic groaned with pleasure and desperation, soft and open and aching.

Chris dipped his fingertips down Nic’s crack until he landed at his back hole, already tingling and sensitive. Chris circled there, pressing only enough to register as sensation without penetrating.

Nic growled softly, the sound lifting out of him easily, and Chris soon had two fingers inside of him, the cool burn and stretch arousing Nic even more. He didn’t know he could be more pliant, more ready, and Nic’s eyes opened and flashed on Chris - who was smirking deliciously - before closing again. 

Chris put a hand behind each of Nic’s knees and ratcheted his legs up to his chest. At this angle, Chris could grind his hips against Nic’s ass, his unyielding cock slipping between Nic’s folds and electrifying him from tip to tail.

“Yes, yes,” Nic heard himself whisper. “Chris, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please turn me inside out! Sweet gods, please.”

Chris pulled away and gave Nic a soft slap on the side of his ass.

“Well, if you’re praying for it, then get up on your knees,” Chris said. “Turn around.”

Nic moved strangely quickly for feeling weightless and woozy and undone. He flipped himself over in an instant, his hands and knees holding him up with a wobble.

Next thing Nic knew, his own long groan had spilled out directly from the cock Chris had buried in his ass up to the hilt. Past the instant of pain already, Nic was soft and open, and welcomed the piercing. Exposed, blasted with a chilling heat, Nic lost awareness of everything but the deep rhythm of Chris rutting him. 

And then Chris drew a seemingly endless climax of out him, spinning him into oblivion. 

Some time later, the intensity abated. Nic felt dazed, and didn’t want to think any more clearly, so he didn’t try. He felt a damp cloth wipe him clean. Then Chris was there, and Nic was in his arms again, with the warm blankets wrapped around them both.

“Yes,” Nic finally said.

“Yes?” Chris said.

“Yes,” Nic replied.

“Then, it’s settled.” Chris kissed him on the nose. 

Then Chris leaned away, and a lamplight was gone. When Chris came back to him, Nic held him tight, hearing only a soft murmuring of Chris’ voice. 

It was right and good, being together. To be soft and bare. And Nic faded into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
